


Afraid

by stuff_and_nonsense



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Post Episode 48, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 07:58:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17504669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuff_and_nonsense/pseuds/stuff_and_nonsense
Summary: Caleb, afterwards.





	Afraid

**Author's Note:**

> My internal screaming after episode 48 turned itself into this.

Caleb walks out of camp, after they’ve pull the cart off the main streets of Felderwin and found a spot for the night. He stays in sight, so they won’t think he’s run off, but he can’t stand to talk right now, can’t look at Nott, can’t think for the fear and the guilt and the nausea that’s already returned. He wants to run, wants to burrow into the ground and disappear, but he can’t. Not until he knows more, not until he’s warned them. Instead, he digs his fingers into the forest floor, grabs up two handfuls of dirt, squeezes, releases, takes them up again. He’s already filthy, dirt across his face from his frantic attempt to hide in Felderwin, but he needs to do something so he rubs more on, across his face then worked into his hair, tugging painful and compulsive at the roots. He moves to his arms, rubbing with dirt at first, then just his hands, scratching at the bandages, under the bandages, digging until he draws blood.

It’s Caduceus who stops him, laying a hand slow and careful on his shoulder. Caleb freezes. Caduceus sits down in front of him, cross-legged on the ground. 

“I know you’re scared,” the firbolg says, “and there’s no shame in that. But sometimes fear can paralyze us.” He rests one long finger Frumpkin-soft on the back of Caleb’s hand. The sting disappears from the scratches on his arms, though an itch remains under the skin, tries to call his scraping fingers back. “Sometimes it helps to have a purpose to focus on.”

Caleb’s perfect memory shows him Caduceus huddled on the deck of the Mistake, frozen there until Jester found the words to pull him up. “Nott’s frightened too,” Caduceus continues. “She could use your help.”

“I have none to give her,” Caleb says. His voice is hoarse, barely present. He stares at the ground in front of him, his hands on the ground. Caduceus is watching him, but he can’t look up.

“She doesn’t hate you, you know,” says Caduceus. “She knows you’re on her side. She could just use a reminder.”

Caleb forces himself to follow his gaze to where Nott sits on the far side of the camp, clutching her flask. The others in their group give her anxious looks as they fuss over the cart, but don’t cross the gap between them. 

He’s seen the look on her face before, once, back when it had been just the two of them. He’d been shot by an arrow fleeing some village, and nearly bled out. While he’d drifted in and out of consciousness, Nott had paced and drunk and sworn at his bandages while she retied them. When he’d woken properly, he’d seen the same expression she wore now: dead-eyed, blind drunk, mind fleeing from an impending loss. He’d sat up, and she’d returned to herself. 

“You know best of all of us how to help her,” said Caduceus. “It might make you both stronger.”

He was nothing, could do nothing, Caleb wanted to scream. But he’d trudged forward all these years, broken as he was, and Nott had trudged with him. She’d kept him moving, been there when he’d gotten lost, and perhaps he could do the same for her. He could at least do something more useful than sitting here scratching at the dirt. He wiped off his hands, and went to her.


End file.
